It Doesn't Matter Now
by CollisionStar
Summary: An entry to Sarah's journal shortly after the murder of Eric and Shelly. Sarah begins to wonder about life as it is now.


"It Doesn't Matter Now" : a fan fiction from "The Crow  
  
(Author's note- this is supposed to be an entry into Sarah's diary after the deaths of Shelly and Eric. I would like to state that I do not have any ownership or rights over James O'Barr's creation or "The Crow" in any way. I would, however, love to own Brandon Lee, even though he's dead. And with that slightly unnerving note, I'll stop myself here.)  
  
Hey-  
  
I'm sorry I haven't written in a few days. Actually, it's been almost a week since I last wrote. Stuff's been happening around here.  
  
Darla picked up my journal the other day, thumbing through it. I don't think she really read anything in here. She just told me that I should grow up. Then she left for work. It's not like it matters what she tells me anyways. I bet by the time she got to "The Pitt", she wouldn't have even remembered picking it up.  
  
Anyway, I have not written because I've either been busy or I just didn't have the desire. You know I said stuff's been going on? Well, I won't try to drag this out, so I'm going to dive right into it. Shelly died last week. She and Eric were murdered in their loft on Devil's Night. Yeah, I know, right before their wedding day. I was going over there to see Shelly. She wanted me to come see her dress before tomorrow. I wanted to tell her I was coming and that she was going to be beautiful. I wanted to run my hands through Eric's hair and tell him that he had better treat Shelly nice. I know walking out in the streets isn't safe on Devil's Night, but I would have walked through broken glass for Shelly. You know I would have. I remember skating toward their block and I could hear sirens. I got this weird twisted feeling in my stomach when they kept getting louder as I got closer. It's like this feeling you can't shake; you know where the sirens are even if you don't want to believe it. It makes you feel sick because secretly, you know the worst of what you imagine has surely just transpired. I skated around the corner and saw the flashing lights and police tape. I remember thinking to myself "Oh please, let it be murder, theft, anything as long as it's not them." Horrible, but I couldn't help it.  
  
It was so weird; standing there on the corner and watching the police go in and out like a movie set. I started down the street, a huge lump in my throat. That's when I saw Shelly being wheeled out in a stretcher. God, she looked so awful. Her face was beaten and bloody and she had both her eyes blackened. There were bruises down her arms, all the way to her hands. She was still alive though. She was calling out for Eric. None of the men around the stretcher were him. I think she saw me because she reached out in my direction. I tried to hold onto her hand, but I was jostled aside as they pushed her into the back of an ambulance. I kept asking what was going on. No body was listening to me though. I think I felt scared and angry at the same time. I was turning around for answers when I saw men chalking around a body on the pavement. I could feel my insides begin to chop when I realized it was Eric. My heart leapt to my throat. He was dead. I instantly turned back around. I bet my face had turned white.  
  
A man told me my sister was going to be all right. I told him we were not sisters. I asked why he lied to her. When she was being wheeled off, he had told her that Eric was O.K. Obviously, he wasn't. The cop introduced himself as Albrect. He told me this was a Devil's Night crime that got out of hand. He assured me that Eric was already gone. He had been dead since they arrived. Shelly had been up in the apartment. She had a chance of living, but a very small chance.  
  
Thinking back now, I think that if Shelly had pulled through, she would have died anyways. At least on the inside. Life without Eric just would not have been life to her. It would just be some existence, like living in a bland and unending dream.  
  
I asked if I could go to the hospital with him. I rode along, watching as a few drops of rain started hitting the windows. I called Darla from a waiting room and I told her what happened. She asked if the cops were still watching me. Albrect was still waiting with me. When I said yeah, Darla just said "Tell Miss Webster that I send better wishes. Tell her that she should pawn her dress when she gets back home. She never wore it, so it's worth something." And she hung up. I couldn't believe her. I guess it didn't matter what she had to say. She didn't know Shelly like I knew her.  
  
I must have fallen asleep. Albrect woke me, looking at me sadly. He told me Shelly had passed away in intensive care after hanging there all night. He said that she kept asking for Eric, but she called for me once or twice. I felt really odd sitting there in that cold, plastic chair. A doctor came in and told me what they did to her. I don't wanna talk about it, but it was bad. They raped her. It was kind of gross too. I wanted to cry really badly, but eyes wouldn't fill with any tears. The officer drove me back home. The apartment was empty, like usual. It didn't matter to me for once because I wanted to be alone. I sat down on the couch. Finally, I started crying. I felt like I wasn't going to stop, like I would eventually drown. But I had stopped by the time Darla got home. She went straight to her room without even asking me anything. If she doesn't care, it's her own business.  
  
I went to Shelly and Eric's funeral a few days ago. It was pouring down rain. The caskets were closed, flowers lying on top of them. I met Mr. and Mrs. Webster. They said that Shelly had told them about me, how sometimes I was like a best friend to her in this lonely city. Eric's band mates were there, but no one else besides a handful of old friends and a few relatives. I guess I was disappointed. No body cares enough in this world  
  
I stayed in the cemetery long after the service was over and everyone had gone. I wasn't crying, but I felt empty. I still do. I tried really hard to remember them with smiling faces. I could feel a panic rise in my throat when I couldn't for a few moments; all I could see was hazy images of them. I suddenly wished I had more pictures, more letters, more of Shelly's hand-me downs. I wished I had spent more time with them, more time in the loft, and more time listening to 'Hangman's Joke'. I felt like the only two people who cared about me were now sitting in graveyard mud. I even felt the strange sense of guilt.  
  
I have never told anyone; I barely used to be able to admit it to myself. I had a big crush on Eric. Ever since Shelly introduced the two of us, I liked him. I was happy for her but I was also jealous. Eric was so handsome and funny. I thought that there was no man on earth who could be just like him. I used to wish that I were in Shelly's place, older and prettier. Now, I still wish I were in her place. Dead. Yeah, I know, what a horrible thing to think. But I wouldn't be here with Darla and I wouldn't have to wake up wondering to today was going to be just as crappy as the last. I would never have to wake up at all. Not to the gray, not to the pain of misery, not even to a growing loneliness.  
  
Shelly and Eric are dead. I might as well be with them. Now, I have no reason to face the world. Everything that I used to think about, dream about, seems so pointless. I feel as though I'm out of place. And I'm starting to cry again and the tears are getting the page wet so I should stop writing. God, why do things like this happen? It's so fucking stupid! What the hell.it doesn't matter now.  
  
-Sarah 


End file.
